by Leda Swann
Then he was gone, and her neck was burning from the touch of his mouth. She put her hand to her neck, almost expecting to find it burned and blistered.
Her skin was unblemished, unmarred. But though the iron of his kiss had not marked her skin, it had branded her soul.
Captain Carterton strode down the road back to the barracks. Even at this hour, the streets were busy with all kinds of traffic: farmers coming in from the countryside with their produce to sell at the morning markets, gentlemen in top hats and canes striding home after an evening at the club, and women. Everywhere he looked there were women.
A pair of pretty girls, their skirts picked up high enough out of the mud that he could see their ankles, passed him by. He could not help smiling at them.
“Were you wanting a bit of company, then?” the bolder one of the two asked him, with a saucy wink. “A handsome gentleman like you could have the pair of us for half a crown apiece.”
He gave his head a rueful shake. “Not tonight, darling.” Though he was wound as tight as a watch spring, he had no interest in the myriad of pretty women that London had to offer. Only one of them would do for him. Compared to Beatrice, no other woman was worth stretching out a hand to pluck.
“It’s you as will be missing out on a grand offer, then,” she retorted without any heat in her words, and the girls walked on with their heads together, giggling.
He wasn’t interested in any woman’s grand offer. No woman but Beatrice could tempt him.
Knowing that she had been playing him all along should have made him angry with her, but it didn’t. He couldn’t be angry with the woman he loved. It simply made him all the more determined to win her for himself. No paltry fool of a doctor would snatch the prize he coveted from under his nose.
She might think that she was going to wed her eligible suitor, but he knew better. No woman could respond to him as she had done if she seriously meant to marry another man. Though he had barely touched her, she had almost gone up in flames at the merest brush of his lips against her neck. Shivering, flushing—every move she made showed him how susceptible to him she was.
If she thought she could live happily with her doctor, she was fooling herself. She desired him in person as much as she had pretended to desire him in her letters. The door was wide open for him to waltz in and win her heart. He awoke the passion in her soul as her doctor so clearly did not.
She had already shown herself susceptible to his kisses. The merest touch of his lips against her skin had her jumping like a startled rabbit. The deep flush on her neck and the heaving of her chest when he came near her had merely confirmed his suspicions. She was hot for him.
Despite the naughty letters she had written to him, she was still clearly an innocent—far more innocent than he had expected her to be. Such a combination as he had found in her, a heady mix of innocence and passion, would make her an easy target for seduction.
Her doctor could not be much of a man if he had courted her for over a year and had not already kissed her senseless. Beatrice did not act like a woman who was used to being kissed senseless. Her wildness was too deeply buried—he would have to coax it out of her little by little.
Before she knew what was happening, he would have her in his arms, kissing her as she ought to be kissed.
From there, it was but a short step to having her skirts up above her waist and be dabbling his fingers in her pussy. He would be fucking her with his fingers, and she would be panting in his arms, begging for more.
He wouldn’t let her come, though, not until she let him replace his fingers with his cock. Then, when she was impaled on his length, he would stroke her into pleasure.
Once he had charmed her into his bed, it would be child’s play to convince her that she had to wed him. He would take her first to his bed, and then to the altar as his wife.
Traditionally, the order was reversed, but he didn’t have the luxury of time. He had to win her before she settled on the doctor as the booby prize.
The following afternoon, Captain Carterton pulled up a chair and sat down next to Sergeant-Major Tofts, who was fidgeting in the hospital bed. “How’s your leg doing?” The sergeant-major’s leg had not healed properly since it had taken a bullet in the battle. In desperation Captain Carterton had arranged that very morning for him to be admitted to London’s best hospital in a bid to save it rather than allow his friend to take the army surgeon’s advice and have it amputated.
The fact that his Beatrice was a nurse at the same hospital was a delightful bonus. He could visit his friend and pay court to his beloved at the same time. She had given him a week to win her, and win her he would.
He’d stationed himself so he could see who was passing through the corridors as he sat with the sergeant-major. He’d ascertained from one of the other nurses that Beatrice was on duty in the ward today, and he would be sure to find some excuse to have her wait on his friend. With only a week to win her, he had no time to waste.
“I’m not used to staying still,” Sergeant-Major Tofts admitted, as he shifted uneasily on the bed. “My backside itches from lying on it.”
The captain grinned at his friend. “Just don’t ask me to itch it for you. Friendship has its limits.”
The doctors at St. Thomas’s Hospital had cleaned out the festering wound on the sergeant-major’s thigh and reset and re-splinted his leg. As far as the captain could tell, they had done a decent enough job of it. Better than the army butchers who called themselves surgeons. All that remained was to see if this time it would heal well enough for him to walk again.
Despite the gray pallor of his face, the major gave him a hearty smile that showed he was not dwelling on the very real possibility that he would lose his leg. “If I’m going to be laid up anywhere, it might as well be in the hospital that boasts the prettiest nurses in London.”
“They are treating you well, then?” Captain Carterton hoped so. He’d personally paid for the sergeant-major to have a private room rather than sharing a ward with a dozen other patients, thinking that the peace and quiet would aid in his friend’s recovery.
“The doctors say there’s a good chance of saving the leg. That’s better than I expected, and as much as I can hope for.” He sounded cheerfully resigned to whatever fate held in store for him.
Just then Captain Carterton caught of glimpse of a white uniform pass by. He could tell by the sway of her hips and the color of the hair underneath the white cap that it was Beatrice. He leaped to his feet and called down the corridor. “Nurse, nurse.” His bass-drum boom of his voice carried through the ward.
She turned toward him at his call. A look of pleasure flickered quickly over her face before being deliberately replaced with an expression of indifference. “Yes?”
“There’s a patient here who needs your help.”
She hurried toward him them, her soft-soled shoes making no sound on the linoleum floor. Brushing past him, she entered the room where the sergeant-major lay. “What is the matter?” she asked, her brow creased with worry.
Captain Carterton signaled frantically to the sergeant-major behind Beatrice’s back. “Invent something,” he mouthed silently, willing his friend to read his meaning. “Keep her here.”
“My leg…my leg pains me,” the sergeant-major said slowly.
Captain Carterton gave a sigh of relief and smiled encouragingly at his friend.
Beatrice drew back the covers on the bed on one side and looked at the sergeant-major’s bandaged leg. It had been washed and redressed earlier that morning, and the bandages looked clean and fresh. She probed at the edge of the bandages with deft fingers. “There’s no evidence of swelling or infection,” she murmured. “But you might be more comfortable if I elevated it a little. Let me go find you another bolster to prop it up on.”
The captain watched as she walked out of the room again, her hips swaying enticingly under her gown.
“I gather that is your Miss Clemens?” the sergeant-major asked wryly, as soon
as she had left. “Teddy’s sister? She’s a pretty young thing. Kind, too.”
Carterton was still staring after her. “I’m going to marry her, you know. I’m not going to let her get away from me.”
The sergeant-major heaved a sigh of envy mixed with resignation. “It’s been years since I felt that way about a woman. I don’t know if I have it in me anymore.”
“She is my soul mate. The only woman I have ever loved.” His words were no exaggeration, but the pure and simple truth. He could not imagine his life without her.
“I wondered why you were being so attentive to your old friend,” the sergeant-major said with a grimace. “It’s the lure of a pretty nurse, not the pleasure of my conversation, that brought you in here so bright and early this morning to see to my welfare.”
The captain punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Be a good chap and find another errand for her to run for you when she comes back. One that will keep her here for a while longer.”
“Can’t you get your own woman? You expect your wounded comrade to play the pimp for you?”
The captain was still glaring at him when Beatrice came back in, a small, stuffed bolster in her hand. She placed it carefully under the sergeant-major’s leg. “There, that should take some of the pressure off. Now, is there anything else you need to make you more comfortable?”
The sergeant-major winked at Captain Carterton behind her back. “I…I’d like a glass of water, please, nurse, if you’re not too busy. I’ve got a thirst on me like a desert.”
Beatrice shot a suspicious glance at the captain, but when she turned back to her patient, her face was all sweetness and light again. “Of course. I will be right with you.”
When she was in the doorway, she beckoned to the captain. “Can I please have a word with you, sir, if you don’t mind?”
When he followed her with alacrity, she pulled him into the empty room next door and shook her finger at him. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
He put on his best innocent expression. “What do you mean? Is there something wrong with keeping a wounded comrade company?”
“I am a busy woman, with other patients to look after besides your friend. I have no time to be summoned for spurious errands all day long.”
“Would I do such a thing?”
She looked at him, her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed over her chest, and said nothing.
“Well, maybe I would,” he admitted, “but doesn’t the sergeant-major deserve to be looked after properly? He is paying for a private room. He should be able to call a nurse when he wants a drink of water, or if he just wants someone to sit with him and talk to him.”
“He has you to sit and talk to him.” She turned her back on him and made as if to walk out the door. “Now let me fetch him a glass of water and leave me be.”
She was not getting away that easily, before he had stolen even a single kiss. He pulled her backward into his arms, and touched her cheek gently with the tip of his finger. “But I am not a pretty nurse, with red rosy cheeks.” His finger crept down her neck. “Or a soft, white neck. Or breasts that are popping out of my uniform, breasts that scream to be fondled.” He suited his actions to his words, cupping her breasts in both hands and squeezing them gently.
She gave a little squeak of surprise when he put his hands on her. “Captain Carterton.”
His cock was already hardening in his trousers at this closeness to her. He drew her firmly against him, until his hardness was pressed up against her. He didn’t want to frighten her, just to let her see how much she affected him.
She wriggled in his arms, as if she would get away, but it only had the effect of making him thicker and harder against her. “You should not be doing this. Not here.” Her voice came out all breathy, and she followed up her words with a soft moan. Her wriggling was no longer aimed at freeing herself, but at getting closer to him.
His hands were busy at her bodice, unbuttoning her so he could slip his hands under her clothes. “Then where should we go? Back to your boardinghouse?”
“We should not be doing this anywhere,” she sighed, pressing herself up against his hardness, and slipping her chemise over her shoulders to free her breasts into his welcoming hands. “You should not be touching me. You should not be fondling my naked breasts.”
If he’d thought he was hard before, it was nothing to how he felt now. His cock was so stiff and swollen with desire, the press of Beatrice’s backside against him was almost painful in its intensity.
He’d fallen in love with her mind through the letters they had exchanged, but now that he had met her he was fast falling in lust with her body. All last night he had lain awake thinking of how he would like to strip off her clothes and make love to her.
Her nipples had gone as hard as little rocks, and her breasts were heavy in his hands. His cock ached even harder as he thought about stretching her virgin cunt as he pushed into her. He wanted to bury himself inside her, lose himself inside her. “Beatrice, my love,” he murmured into her ear. “How did I ever live before I met you?”
There was a narrow cot in the room, with a bare mattress on it. He sat back onto it, and pulled her down beside him. “Kiss me, Beatrice.” He needed her to give him something, to touch him first.
A hesitant look came into her eyes. “I should not.” But she arched her back so her breasts were pressed further into his hands.
“You want to. I can read your desire in your eyes. Why not give in to your wants, just this once? No one will ever know.”
His coaxing worked. She reached toward him and gave him a tiny peck on the cheek.
With one hand on the nape of her neck, he turned her head toward him so that he could claim her mouth with his own. The first move had come from her, but the next was up to him.
Her mouth opened, and he slipped his tongue inside. She kissed him back with a passion that matched his, showing him how empty her words of denial were.
He needed to feel that she was as hot for him as he was for her. After dreaming about her for so many months, he had to feel her pussy, to taste just a little of its sweetness.
With eager hands, he pushed her skirts up to her knees and slid his hand under them. The skin of her thighs was soft and smooth, but he did not linger there. Relentlessly he pushed on until he found the slit in her drawers.
The hair on her pussy was soft and fine. He ran his fingers through her springy curls, capturing her moan of pleasure with his mouth. Carefully he parted her curls to find the treasure within, the folds that hid her cunt. He slid his hand over them, his fingers sliding slickly in the wetness. She could not deny the evidence of her body. She was hot for his cock, to have him thrust inside her. She was greedy to taste the pleasure that a man could give her. “Let me make love to you,” he whispered, as he caressed her. “Let me go where no man has gone before me.”
His words had the opposite effect of what he had desired. Instead of melting even further into his embrace, she pushed him away violently and scrambled back on to her feet.
He could only watch helplessly as with shaking fingers she rebuttoned her bodice. “I think you had better leave now.” She would not look him in the eye as she spoke.
He was too busy trying to regain control of his rampant lust to take in what she was saying. “Beatrice, what is wrong?” He held out his arms to her, willing her back into his embrace.
“You are what is wrong. This whole situation is what is wrong.” She wiped an angry tear from her eye as if its mere presence was a betrayal. “You took me by surprise, before I had time to steel myself against you. I am not myself when I am around you. I do not know what happens to me, but all my good sense deserts me.”
“There is passion between us, Beatrice. That is nothing to be ashamed of.”
His words did not mollify her, and when he came to put his arms around her, she shrugged him off like an annoying insect. “What if Dr. Hyde were to come in and find me cavorting on the bed in an empty ro
om, like a common doxy?” she said, her voice full of angry accusation. “What then? What would I do?”
“Then you would have to marry me.” It was exactly what he was aiming for after all.
He had kissed her only because he couldn’t resist it, but he was sorry now that they hadn’t been disturbed. Their discovery might have shortened his courtship considerably. He imagined there was nothing like being caught with a man’s fingers dabbling in your pussy to make a woman suddenly amenable to marriage.
“I will be getting married to Dr. Hyde. I suggest you reconcile yourself to the fact and leave me be.” She patted down her hair, tucking away a few tendrils that had worked loose. “And no more spurious errands for your friend, if you please.”
He wanted to kick himself. He had pushed her too far, too fast, and now she would be doubly cautious around him. “Sergeant-Major Tofts has given everything for his country. He deserves to be waited on.”
She stopped still for a heartbeat. “What did you say his name was?”
“Sergeant-Major Bartholomew Tofts.”
“Was he in the same regiment as you and Teddy?” Her voice was striving to sound casual, but he could hear the keen interest shining through. Maybe Teddy had mentioned the sergeant-major in one of his letters to his sister. He was sure he never had. His letters had been preoccupied with more interesting matters entirely.
“We served together for a couple of years in the Transvaal. He was wounded in our last battle. The same that injured my arm.”
If he were not mistaking matters, a gleam of an idea had come into Beatrice’s eye at the mention of his friend’s name. “If you are concerned that the sergeant-major receive the best care possible, then I suggest you hire him a private nurse.” Her voice was suspiciously casual. She was planning something, he was sure of it.
Still, the idea had merit, for Sergeant-major Tofts’s sake, even if not for his own. He would find other ways of coaxing Beatrice into meeting with him. “Can you recommend anyone in particular?”